


Requested prompts bundle 1

by ItsFinnley666 (RavenDeliahJones)



Series: Requested prompt bundles [1]
Category: Afraid of Monsters & Cry of Fear, Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Not a Crossover, separate fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 00:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenDeliahJones/pseuds/ItsFinnley666
Summary: A request bundle for a friend of mine containing prompted oneshots from cry of fear/afraid of monsters and assassins creed





	1. "I need a place to stay" - Cry of fear/Afraid of monsters

It was late, David didn't have a watch but he knew it was late. It was dark out, and cloudy too, almost unnaturally so. The streetlights didn't work in this side of town, and so he had to rely on his eyes alone, though they were red and hazy. Countless thoughts came and go in his brain, letting off a certain buzzing, but he was content nonetheless. Clumsily, he made his way along the littered street, stumbling as he went. David pauses, licking his dry lips, and pulls out a tin to start rolling a cigarette against a wall. His knowing fingers worked precisely despite his affliction, and when three were made, he was content. He puts one between lips, cupping his hands to light it and inhaling deeply. He sighs out the smoke, feeling any remaining stress leave his body with the chemicals. Satisfied, he began to walk again, ambling down the remainder of the black path with a slight sway.

Some moments, he seems to forget the cigarette hangs from between his lips, and almost burns his hand, but then flicks off the ash, and takes another drag. His brows scrumple in thought, a sort of deep concentration, and then he shakes his head, and sets pace once more. The cold doesn't seem to hit him, and his skin tingles with warmth, his brain with excitement. It was a long way back yet, but David didn't mind. He was fine with the deep night, not even fear could reach him in his state.

What started as a few unnoticeable droplets of water steadily grew, until the rain was pelting off his skin with such ferocity that he felt the stabbing of millions of tiny needles on him, hurting through clothes. To make matters worse, the temperature was dropping fast, warnings of storms left forgotten in his brain. Snow flurried in the atmosphere around him, chilling him along with the rain and leaving him shivering. His clothes were no doubt soaked through now, and his cigarette had almost bent from how hard the rain was hitting it - but never mind, it was out, sodden, and so David threw it to the ground with a curse. His brain told him to light another, and he almost agreed with that logic, until it occurred to him that he had stopped walking. He shakes his head again, wet hair flopping over his eyes as he pulls up his hood, a rare occurrence indeed. His legs seem to move ahead of his body as he speeds towards the destination, the icy feeling starting to drip into his bones now, though he could not shiver. It was strange, but unthought-of as he continued along the way.

 

It was late, he knew it, the clock told him so, but he could not bring himself to sleep. Nightmares still gripped him. He dropped his pen, having gotten lost in the thought of them once more, and swore to himself, leaning down to pick it up. He finished off the last few details of the entry, and shut the book without a word, slipping it into a box on the top of his dresser. He stretches, feeling his back click, and groans wordlessly. A quick glance at the clock; 02:40.

"Damn." He mumbles, voice hoarse from sleep and terror. He stands, scratching his head aimlessly, wandering towards his window. Storms always calmed him, so hopefully it would be the same tonight. He could hear the rain against his roof, tapping. It was sort of calming in an unnerving way. His hands drew back the curtains, and he very nearly screamed. His voice, luckily, cut out from before. There was somebody there, at the window. He couldn't make out what they looked like, and he quickly patted himself down, eyes scanning the clock to make sure he wasn't dreaming again. 02:44. He lets out a sigh of relief, and almost forgets about the figure standing outside his window, tapping on the glass along with the rain. Did he forget to take his meds again? No, his meds bottle was upside down, it was right this morning. He swallows thickly.

"Simon!" The voice rips him from his thinking. He opens the window a crack, voice wavering.

"What do you wan- David?!" He questions, eyes widening. There stood the older male, clothes soaked through with the rain, and shivering heavily. Simon hoists the window the whole way up, motioning for David to come in. He puts a finger to his lips, and David nods, clumsily entering through the window. Simon eyes him up cautiously, the slight light of his lamp illuminating him from the side, casting an ominous shadow across the length of the room. "David, what are you doing here?!" Simon hisses, voice quiet. The last time he had seen him, they had gotten into an argument, and had not spoken since. That was weeks ago. Of course, with all David had going on, they could never meet often, but this time, Simon felt like he was missing the older male.

"I need a place to stay." David manages to stutter out through the shivers that wracked his body. Simon sucks on his tongue, raising a brow in less than amusement, but then nods, his expression dropping.

"You need to get out of those clothes." Simon says, voice laced with concern. David makes no attempt to move, his sopping wet clothes making a small puddle on the carpet. Simon moves towards him, watching him intently. "You're high again, aren't you?" He sighs, and just watches David sway, struggling to stand. "Okay, fine." His hands reach forwards, unzipping David's hoodie and dropping it onto the floor next to them. He makes quick work of his turtleneck, and stops when David remains wearing his jeans. "You, uh, gotta take them off, you'll get sick if not." His face flushes, but in the lamplight its not that obvious. David unbuttons his jeans and makes a move to remove them, staggering to the side. Simon sighs, helping David support his weight while he removed his trousers. Simon sits David down onto the side of his bed, rummaging through a drawer to throw him a tee shirt. Simon picks up the soaking ball of clothes and quietly opens his door, tiptoeing over to the bathroom and setting the garments into the bath to dry. He creeps back over to his room, and shuts the door as silent as possible.

David is lounged on Simon's bed, hands behind his head with his eyes closed. "David!" Simon whispers out, annoyed. David opens an eye and grins stupidly, still in only his boxers. Simon rolls his eyes, moving to the bed to grab the shirt. "Dude, c'mon!" He huffs, lifting David's arms and helping him into the slightly too small shirt. He black haired boy swatted David away slightly, so he could climb into bed as close to the wall as possible. A single bed made for uncomfortable sharing situations, but it wasn't the first time, so Simon didn't seem to care anymore. The horror of dreaming had worn off, and he was tired. Simon takes little notice when the bed dips behind him, and closes his eyes, that is until something cold and wet slides across his ear. Simon jolts, eyes snapping the the older man who had his head buried in Simon's neck, wet hair dampening their shirts. The younger male found himself once again heating from the idea, but tried to dismiss this as best as he was able. David slips his arms around the younger man's waist, comfortable in his warmth, and letting out an odd sound, almost like purring.

When the heavy blanket of sleep is pulled from him, David groans quietly, finding his arms trapped. He opens his tired eyes, and smiles at the sight. Simon, asleep, cuddled in his arms. He looks so peaceful, David thinks to himself, but the clock reads 5:49 and the sun was already streaming through the gap between the curtains. David gently eases himself out from around the black haired boy, and brushes a stray tress out of his eyes. He was groggy, mind aching but he had to leave before Simons mum woke up. He lets himself linger there, for just a moment, watching the rise and fall of the others chest, and leans down, gently pecking lips against his nose. Then, quietly, he stands, removes and folds the shirt to place on the desk, and goes to get his clothes.   
Once he's dressed, he returns, and grabs a pen, gently scribbling down a note to leave on the desk. When everything is back in it's place, David lets himself out through the window, and heads on his way.

Simon awakes, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He feels oddly cool, like something was missing, but a tingling on his face. He sits up, eyes falling on the small piece of paper resting on his shirt.

Thanks, I owe you one. I hope you slept well.

Simon, who had slept the best in months, smiled to himself, and began to go about his day.


	2. "I feel like I can't breathe" Cry of fear/Afraid of monsters

Shaking breaths, in, out, in, out. No. No no no. Please, no. Not again.

Hot tears drop down her cheeks, face flushed red as she struggles. Why this? Why now?

Pathetic.

She quickens her steps as best she can, every fibre of her being shuddering with the swell of a demon in her throat. She can't let them see, no, they'd laugh more. Bear their teeth in cruel grins of satisfaction at their works result. Her mind is preoccupied with panic, and she stumbles over a foot, sending her spiralling down as their barking laughter imprinted on her brain.

"Aw, little baby, what's the matter? Gonna go running to your church? Asking god to smite us down?" A cruel sneer grips her, and she shudders at the blasphemy. She chooses to say nothing, though she couldn't regardless, her threat closing up with anxiety. She almost doesn't register it at first, but suddenly, her clothes are sticking to her, and her hair was wet. The sickening smell of some energy drink clinging to her, dripping into her eyes.   
The group laugh, or cackle, it seems. Happy with their work, they retreat, and she simply whimpers. She didn't know them, but there's so many people in the school anyways, none of which she wants to talk to, all too loud, too obnoxious. She dislikes her prejudice of them, but they seemed to have no problems returning the favour.

Does she even have a mouth? Or does she just not like to talk?

She wipes her nose on her sleeve, lips trembling. Home. Yes, she needed... Home. She stumbles back, stepping on the can that helped the assault. Her chest was pulsating with heavy breaths and a thumping heart, and she just needs to make it home. Take a right, then across the street... She steps forward, hood up so everyone can't see her weakness. She jumps as a horn blares into her ear, and a car stops just inches from her. An angry voice mixes in with the noise in her head and she just runs, no oxygen left in her lungs.

All your fault, you're a stupid girl. This wouldn't have happened if you let Simon walk you home. You let yourself get hurt and you upset him too. Stupid girl.

A sob escapes her lips as her trembling hands try to force the key into the lock. When it fits, she forces the door open, steps in and slams it behind her. A hand instinctively clutches the cross at her neck, under her hoodie. Her grip causing it to leave dents in her palms. Her mind is so blank in panic, that in the frenzy to escape to her room, she slams hard into a figure, sending herself - once again - sprawling to the ground.

"Sophie?!" She covers her head with her arms instinctively, and it's almost like she's choking. "What's the matter?! Please, Sophie, speak to me!"   
David.

He's no better. A walking sin. Repentance won't save his soul, he's forever damned.

Sophie wailed, floods of tears down her cheeks and soaking her hoodie. David pushes her so she's slumped against the wall, and finds her eyes.   
"I... I-I feel like I can't breathe." She stutters, and David's eyes widen, seeing the state she was in. He kneels in front of her, not too close, but still near enough to touch.   
"Soph, please, look at me. That's good, okay." Her eyes locked on his, emerald green and doe-like with fear made him recoil slightly, but still he continued. "I'm not going to touch you unless you want me to. Don't speak, just, nod or shake your head. You with me?" A single bob of her head gives him his answer, and he swallows thickly. "Okay. I want you to take a deep breath, yeah? Count with me." Her voice catches on a violent sob, and her head shakes incapably. "You can do this. I promise, you're okay, it's okay." He raises both hands, displaying only a single finger. "Deep breath now."

Her eyes are pooled with tears, and her chest is on fire, but she takes in a shaking breath, focusing on her brothers eyes and movements.   
"...One..." her voice is foreign, alien. It's hoarse and practically inaudible, but he hears it nonetheless.  
"Good job Sophie, I'm proud of you, now c'mon, again."   
Her lips curl into the slightest trace of a smile, but then her chest is heaving again, and she has to focus.  
David lifts another finger, and waits patiently, giving her an encouraging grin, worry evident in his eyes.   
"T-Two..."   
She focuses on him, eager for a distraction. He nods, unbrushed red hair flopping into his eyes but he makes no move to move it away. She looks into his eyes, green, no red. Yes, she's happy, somewhere in that swell of emotions like a hurricane in her chest.  
She's counting with him now, and it all seems so stupid, but it works, and she's happy.   
"Five..." Its getting easier, the knot in her body loosening, the tension coming with it, and her shoulders are slumping.   
"Well done, Soph. You got this."

"Ten." She's smiling at him, and he's smiling back, and suddenly, she's lurching forward, hugging him close. "Thank you, David." He's surprised at first, but he chuckles, his chest reverberating. He pats her shoulder.  
"It's what's family's for, Soph. Now, stay here." Sophie pulls away, confusion on her face, but she leans back against the wall, and David stands. He notes the expression in her eyes, and explains. "I'll only be gone a minute."  
When David leaves, Sophie let's herself rest, feeling how easy breathing comes, and relief washes over her. She's okay now.

The crunch of plastic stirs her from her thoughts, and she opens her eyes to see a waterbottle being held in front of her face. She takes it gratefully, hearing David speak. "Don't forget to drink it slowly, I don't want you throwing up on me." He laughs, watching her take small sips, and holds out his hand. "Here, I know you get headaches after you cry." She take the painkiller apprehensively, swallowing it down with the cool water. David slings an arm over her shoulders, and they sit there in silence for a few moments. "This could all get sorted, you know? We could tell someone, tell the school." Her body freezes, and her grip tightens on the bottle.   
"N-no. I don't want to, they'd make it worse, I... I have faith it'll get better." David suppresses a sigh, nodding sadly.   
"Alright, Soph. If you insist." He squeezes her shoulder gently, standing once more.  
They lapse back into quietness.  
"David?"   
"Hmm?"  
"You're not... High are you?" It was his turn to freeze up, and he shifts uncomfortably.  
"No, Soph. I'm not. Why-"  
"So... it's worked? I've been praying... David, you can help me, I've been trying to help you back. I really care about you and..." her voice cuts, and she breathes in a shuddering motion once more.  
"I'll cut down for you, Sophie. I promise. I can't say it'll stop all together, it just doesn't work that easily, but... I'll try, for you."   
Sophie embraces her brother once more, and thanks him with a quiet whisper. When they pull away, David stands.  
"Now, c'mon, I've ran you a bath, don't let it get cold." He grins, making her laugh softly - rare but beautiful.

Thank you, David. Thank you so much, for everything. I don't know what I'd do without you.


	3. "I'm telling you. I'm haunted." - Assassins Creed

(Guastafeste - killjoy/spoilsport)

It was over. A sigh of relief. That feeling of cool wind after a lifetime of stifling heat. Abstergo was gone, and life was normal once more. It was a rather strange feeling for Demond, having his life turned over for years upon end, and then suddenly everything fell back into place. But he was grateful nonetheless. Everyone was alive, safe, and he got to live his life knowing he was part of something greater, looking at strangers with a new light, how very human they were - lives and emotions of their own.

Desmond decided to reapply for his job at the bar he worked in seemingly a lifetime ago, a little bit of familiarity to ease the soul. Eventually, he began to rent a small apartment on the quiet side of town, not much, but just enough with the money he was earning. So far, it was going well, and he was in the process of moving in, getting help from Shaun, Becca and Lucy - hell, even his dad was helping out. It felt like everything would be okay again, and plus, he had some badass new moves to show off with.

Of course, everything was so hectic at the time. They thought he had died, and Desmond had never seen them so distraught, Shaun's snarky demeanour shattered as he struggled to comprehend the situation, his dad, who he had never seen cry, was standing, just barely, tears silently flowing down his cheeks. But he stumbled out, and collapsed, the mission over. He'd been close to dying, sure, but that just served to prove his determination for the whole thing.   
"I didn't go through all this shit to die." He muttered, before losing consciousness. It was rather funny to Desmond, thinking back on it, but none of the others laughed with him. Obviously, the idea of losing a good friend, or even a son is nothing hilarious, but everything had turned out surprisingly good despite Desmond's... Reminder. His arm, the one without a tattoo, had been severely burned, and he still felt pain in it every so often, but in honesty, he didn't mind. Sure, it was a bit unnerving to look at, but nonetheless it was a sacrifice, something that could've been his life instead.

He shakes his head, pulling himself from his thoughts. Right now, he was unloading boxes from the moving van outside, to be unpacked at a later date, or more specifically, when he could be bothered.   
"You good?" Becca's face came into focus, a hand waving to catch his attention. She was grinning, albeit slightly nervous. Her jokes that Desmond had attained some possible brain damage from faceplanting the floor were not too funny for Lucy, who required him to get immediate medical attention. Desmond nods, smiling back at her as he takes the box out of her hands and stacks it with the rest.   
"Was fine until I saw your face, why d'you ask?" He laughs, and catches a glimpse of her sticking out her tongue before she leaves to grab another box, music blasting through the headphones she always wore.   
A hand set on his shoulder nearly makes him turn to attack, but he restrains this urge, what was it Shaun called it? A Pavlovian response? Yeah, something like that, technical and uninteresting in honesty.  
"I'm proud of you, Son. I feel like I haven't said it enough, so-" Desmond turns, smirking slightly.  
"Dad, it's fine. In fact that's all I've been saying since I got out of the hospital. I think my exit was too dramatic, you're a broken record." He laughs, and sees the corners of his fathers mouth twitch up into a smile.

"Are you sure you should be lifting all these boxes alone? I can stay and help if you like, I'm not entirely sure your arm is healed yet." Desmond lifts a hand, smiling softly.  
"I'm fine, Lucy. Go out and have fun, you need it after all this." Lucy shares his smile, gently pushing a loose piece of hair off his face,  
"I'm just worried about you." He's taken aback by the action, but he doesn't let it show.   
"Same for you. Go have a good time, is Shaun going with you's two?" Lucy let's out a small laugh, shaking her head.  
"Hell no, you'd think he's about twenty years older than he actually is! 'Don't be ridiculous, Becks! I've got work to do, I'm too old to be getting drunk like that.'"  
Rebecca's impression of Shaun wasn't exactly accurate, but it was rather hilarious. Screwed up nose and over exaggerated frown which made them all burst into fits of laughter.  
"Wow, you'd think helping save the world would warrant a drink or two. He really hasn't changed has he?" Des exclaims over the laugher that still bubbled up in his throat. He waves the girls off after that, and flops down onto a couch in the middle of a barren room.

Sleeping on a couch made a nice change to a hospital bed, and so he was undoubtedly asleep. He'd managed to bring in a few more boxes, and leave the rest in the front hall. There was some furniture scattered about, but his bed was in pieces, and he really didn't have the energy to fuck about with ikea's instructions, or lack of.

A few weeks had passed, and the place was painted up and looking a lot nicer. There was still quite a bit to put away, and boxes still teetered in stacks dangerously about the house. But it was starting to look like home, no matter how messy it looked. However, it was strange, when Desmond checked out the place before he finalised anything, everything seemed to be in working order, but since he had moved in? Well, that was a different story. Lights kept blowing, or just not working at all despite the fact he had just replaced the bulb, sometimes the faucets would leak even though he was positive he'd made sure there were no breaks. However, he said nothing, because it was a great house, in a good area close to work.

One day he was working out, his usual routine just to keep in shape should anything else occur and he needs to spring into action (and totally not for the fact it got better tips from drunk girls at the bar), when he had left the room to go to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water from the freezer, and took a large gulp, steadily walking back to his room to continue. He pauses, though, when he gets to the door. He didn't shut it, did he?   
"Damn drafts again. I'm gonna have to get this checked out." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He opens the door, and once again freezes.   
"Okay seriously what the fuck? The circuits too? God damn it." He didn't turn the lights off, he knew he didn't. This was just getting ridiculous.

The phone dialled, and Desmond drummed his fingers against the table impatiently. It was getting on his nerves now, first the lights, and the faucets, now his god damn console? He cursed to himself, but hearing him pick up made him jolt.  
"Shaun? Hey uh, this may sound stupid-"  
"Nothing new there, Desmond. But what can I help you with."  
Desmond almost laughed with the relief of a reliable source of knowledge on his side.  
"I think something's wrong with my apartment."  
"Care to elaborate?"  
Desmond sighed furiously, gesticulating to an invisible audience.  
"I don't know, somebody's messing with my stuff, lights, taps, my gaming console! Just when I think it's fixed it goes haywire again. I mean, that many electricians can't be wrong can they?"  
There was a silence on the end of the line, and Desmond was about to throw his phone if it was affected too.  
"Are you telling me" Shaun's voice was filled with amusement, "that you have ghosts?"  
"No, yes, I don't know!"   
Shaun sniggers on the other side of the line, making Desmond run a hand through his hair out of frustration.  
"I'm not joking, Shaun. You need to see this. When are you next free?"

"Oh this is going to be good." Ezio smirks, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. He had to admit, the change of scenery was greatly appreciated. Modern day America was way more interesting than the Italian towns he had been stuck in for uncountable years. The sound of a tut made him turn around, and Altaïr was stood with his arms folded.   
"Lighten up, Guastafeste" the Italian chuckled, seeing the doorknob rattle as Desmond walked in with Shaun following behind. At this, Altaïr huffs, and rolls his eyes.  
"Why must you be so difficult?" Ezio's grin just widens at this, and Connor appears.  
The three share a nod of welcoming, Ezio continuing with his earlier point.  
"I'm not being difficult, Guastafeste, just having a little fun." And with that, Ezio disappears, simply walking into the wall like it was nothing but thin air.  
"And stop calling me that!" Altaïr yells after him, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
"Why must I forced to deal with this for the rest of my eternity?"

Desmond threw his keys into the bowl by his door, and ran a tongue across his lips.   
"Want a coffee? We might be here a while." Shaun nods, hanging his coat onto the pegs.  
"Is your neighbour always that obnoxious?" His British voice cuts in, making Desmond sigh.  
"Yup. For the last few days now, the same dozen tunes, not like I hear them enough at the bar or anything." The entirely too loud music was becoming a severe annoyance, and Desmond was utterly glad he worked nights most days, as a way to escape it. He hands the Brit his coffee, and they begin to talk about everything that's occurred over the last few weeks.

Altaïr and Connor share a similarly infuriated expression at the pounding songs that had been playing on repeat way longer than necessary. Without a word, the Syrian follows the same path as Ezio had done, but heads into the neighbours apartment.   
"MY FUCKING SPEAKER. WHAT THE FUCK MAN? I JUST GOT THIS SHIT."  
The voice rings out, audible through to Desmond's place, and the two men just share an incredulous look as the music stops. Altaïr returns like nothing had happened, though slightly more at ease. Ezio trails behind him, chuckling and shaking his head.  
"You reprimand me for the actions you take yourself?" Altaïr faces the Italian with a small smile, rare.  
"I'm only doing what's necessary." Ezio's face is one of a amusement, and Connor pipes up.  
"You could've just turned it off, you know?" At this, the Syrian shakes his head.  
"For him to switch it on once more? It was annoying you too, and therefore, a worthy cause." He points towards Ezio. "Unlike this one, who uses it for amusement."  
The Italian raises both hands in surrender.  
"Lighten up, you're dead!" Connor catches Altaïr mutter something about being much happier in an afterlife with a steady supply of women and alcohol, and decides to duck out of the conversation. Since Altaïr had left, Desmond had turned on a light in his bedroom and left. At least he hadn't forgotten to close the door this time, there were cold winds about in the winter and he didn't want his descendant to get ill. He walks through the wall and switches off the light. He heard from Desmond himself how expensive bills could be, so he spent his time helping out, unlike Ezio. He rejoins with Altaïr, Ezio nowhere to be found, and watches Desmond walk towards his bedroom, and call Shaun over when he sees the lack of lighting.

"See! I'm telling you. I'm haunted." Shaun tuts at this.   
"Desmond, you probably just have a broken fuse or something of the like, no need to jump to such absurd conclusions." He finishes the last of his coffee, and adjusts his glasses. "I'll put this in the sink and be off. I'll call you a reliable electrician, yeah?" Desmond sighs dejectedly at this, and nods. Shaun heads over to the kitchen, and had just set the mug into the sink, when Connor noticed Ezio once more.  
Ezio had a hand on both taps, and spun them violently, making water gush everywhere.  
"Booooooooo motherfucker!" He cackles, making Altaïr's jaw drop with disbelief. Shaun was in direct contact with the water and his clothes were soaked.   
"Dude! What the fuck!" Desmond exclaimed, not sure whether to laugh or be angry. "Fuckin' quit it!" He yells out, and the faucets turn off.   
Shaun's expression is one of disbelief, and he wipes the water off his glasses without a word. Eventually he speaks up.  
"I swear, Desmond if that's all you had to do to get it to stop, I'll politely tell you to try it first in future." Desmond shoots him a sheepish smile, and offers to buy him a drink sometime to make up for it. Shaun leaves promptly after that.

"That was a dirty trick" Connor says, looking slightly angry at the unwarranted attack. Ezio simply smiles,   
"You've much to learn if you're going to be stuck with me for your eternity."   
Altaïr simply rubs his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply at it all.


	4. "Why can't you appreciate my sense of humour?" - Assassins Creed

It was a quiet day, almost too quiet. No sounds of keyboards clacking, no chattering. Just the gentle buzzing of the air con. Desmond groaned, sitting up from his bed, clothes sticking to him from the heat. It was too hot to work in the animus today, even Shaun agreed, and he was a hardass half the time. He stood up, huffing, and headed towards the fridge. He pulled a bottle of water out of the freezer and let out a noise of content as the cold soothed his skin. He took a gulp, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. From the couch, he hears Becca groan with what sounds like emotional distress, or even great pain, and quickly walks to find her. She has a hand covering her face, and before he can ask what's wrong, she groans again.  
"That was the worst shit I have ever heard in my life. No wonder you don't go anywhere, I'd lock myself away with my work too if I was that bad." He sees Shaun sat opposite in shorts and a polo shirt, and raises a confused brow. Wow, must be really hot to get him out his shirt and sweater, he thinks to himself. Upon noticing him stood in the doorway, Rebecca grins up at him, a sign that means she's clearly up to no good.  
"Desmond! Come join us!" She chirps, and he almost refuses, but the air conditioning is so nice in here that he just has to accept. He sits down next to her, letting his feet rest on the coffee table. This would usually annoy Shaun, but it must be too hot for him to function.  
"So, what exactly were you sounding like a dying cat for, Becca?" She momentarily lifts herself from her slouching position to punch him on the arm, to which he feigns injury.   
"I was trying to lighten her abysmal mood by telling a few jokes." Shaun interjects, hair far from his usual faux hawk with the heat. Desmond can't help but think he looks rather stupid with his hair flattened out like that, but he suppresses this thought knowing he can't look much better himself.   
"That sounds... fun.." Des clears his throat awkwardly, and Shaun sighs.  
"Oh not you too. You're both miserable."  
Desmond and Becca share a look of pure concern.   
"Dude I feel like I've been warped to an alternate reality where Shaun isn't such a dick, except it's not really working." Becca laughs, and Desmond can't help but chuckle too, making the Brit scowl.  
"Why can't you appreciate my sense of humour? My jokes are superior." He huffs out, making Desmond raise a brow.  
"Well, go on then, I'm sure they can't be that bad." He notions for Shaun to continue, and Becca shoots him a horrified look.  
"Right. Well" Shaun sits up straight at this, almost as if given new life. "How do Americans make their tea?" He asks, smiling as if he was already immensely pleased with himself.  
Desmond shrugs at this, " Dunno." The heat was making him lethargic and sluggish, so he stuck to as short a sentence he could.  
"They throw it in the harbour." Desmond blinked, waiting for the punchline, but was severely confused when it did not come. Des turns to Becca, who wore the exact same confused expression as himself, and looked back to Shaun, who's smirk promptly dropped.   
"Oh come on... You're joking right?" He asks, and Becca pipes up.  
"I thought that was your job." Desmond sniggers at this.  
"No, you can't possibly be serious! You don't get that?"   
Their faces must have been a dead give away, because he looked back at them with an unreadable expression.  
"The navigation act? The taxes on imported goods?"  
If anything, the two Americans grew more confused, making Shaun seemingly more annoyed.  
"The British-American Wars? For independence? The Boston tea party?! No?!" Desmond shook his head, and Becca shrugged.  
Shaun sounded genuinely offended by this point, and threw his hands up in frustration. "You two are unbelievable!" He stood, and left.

"Wonder why he left?" Desmond asked innocently, and Becca just laughed.  
"Probably went to jerk off to a history magazine or something." They both grinned at this, and Desmond stuck out his hand.   
"Petition to never let him tell jokes again?" Becca shook his hand firmly.  
"Agreed."


End file.
